by R. R. Banks
I cock my head and look at him. “So, what you're telling me is that they only wanted me to learn to ask for help?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” he chuckles. “Do you really believe they expect you to have a thorough knowledge of everything KT does? That's impossible – and your parents never expected you to do the impossible.”
“Sometimes, it feels like it.”
Thomas chuckles. “Son, this is a lesson they wanted you to figure out on your own – that you don't have to do it all yourself. They wanted you to learn how to ask for help,” he says. “And by telling you this, I'm breaking their confidence. Kendrick wanted to tell you, but given that he's the executor of their estate and their attorney, he was bound by law. But once we learned of what Tiffany is doing behind the scenes, we decided that the stakes were too great to not tell you.”
“So, just to be clear, all I have to do to fulfill that condition is – ask for help?”
Thomas chuckles. “More or less, yes. As ridiculous as it sounds,” he says. “All they wanted was for you to humble yourself enough to learn to find the experts around you who can help you, who can help guide this company and grow it. They wanted you to learn to lean on them.”
“Experts like you,” I say.
He shrugs. “Among others,” he says. “There are good people in this company. Smart people doing some amazing things. And they only wanted you to be aware and knowledgeable about what's happening.”
I sigh and sit back in my seat, taking a long swallow of beer. I can't believe what I'm hearing. Although, it makes perfect sense now that Thomas has let the cat out of the bag. My parents were always trying to teach me lessons. Always doing things like this to make a point.
“That's a lot to digest and I'll have to think it over some,” I say. “I'm not entirely sure how to process it all just yet, hoss.”
“I wouldn't expect anything less,” he replies.
“But that still leaves us with the other condition,” I say. “And that one could prove a little more troublesome than the first. That's not about learning a lesson.”
Thomas shakes his head. “No, it's not,” he replies. “But they believed in the stability a marriage can provide. They believed it reshapes one's priorities.”
“Yeah, Tiffany is a great reminder that my father always had his priorities straight,” I say, completely deadpan.
“That – was a mistake,” he says. “A mistake he never forgave himself for making. Believe me, I saw how badly he punished himself for it firsthand. But he and your mother – though they had their ups and downs – learned to get over it. Put it behind them. Because they had a stable marriage and never lost sight of their goals or priorities. And that's what they want for you, Brady.”
“Which is great and all,” I say and grin. “Except for the part about having a wife. I have no prospects, hoss.”
He sighs and grimaces. I can tell he's about to say something he either doesn't approve of or something he doesn't like because he looks like he just ate a rotten lemon.
“Marie and I have been married a long time,” he says, looking at the framed picture on his desk. “A long, long time. We're partners in everything.”
I nod, not sure where he's going with this.
“But not every marriage is like ours,” he says. “Other marriages are – well – different.”
“I'm not sure what you're driving at, hoss.”
He sighs and runs a hand over his closely cropped hair. “I'm just saying that I have a lot of respect for the institution of marriage. A deep belief in it.”
I nod slowly, still not understanding. “Okay, I get that, but you're losing me here.”
“I guess I'm having trouble spitting it out only because I personally detest the idea,” he says.
“Let me guess, this is an idea suggested by a certain burly lawyer friend of ours,” I say.
Thomas gives me a wry grin. “See? You are a lot brighter and more intuitive than you give yourself credit for,” he says. “Our burly lawyer friend and I were spitballing recently –”
“And by spitballing, you mean trying to find a suitable woman to throw in my path?”
He grins. “Something like that.”
“And? What did you two Cupids from hell come up with?”
“Well, I still believe that in two years, you can find a suitable match,” he says. “But during our discussion, a point was raised that there are marriages that are more like – business partnerships.”
“Business partnerships,” I say flatly.
Thomas nods. “Oh, I can think of a few prominent political couples whose marriage was little more than a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
I rub at the stubble on my chin. “Huh,” I say. “So, you think I just need to find a girl and propose a business arrangement? A little you scratch my back, I scratch yours deal?”
That look of distaste appears on his face again. “I'm not suggesting any such thing,” he says. “All I'm saying is that some believe it's – an option. And with time beginning to run short, perhaps it's an option you shouldn't remove from the table entirely.”
I can tell he's uncomfortable with even throwing that out there as an option. Thomas is a good man who values marriage and family above everything else. I can tell the very idea of a sham marriage to satisfy a requirement for my inheritance turns his stomach and goes against everything he believes in. But he had to be the one to float it out there because Kendrick couldn't, given his position.
The fact that he floated it out there at all though, tells me just how serious the situation is. Or at least, how seriously they're taking it.
“All I know is that this company cannot fall into Tiffany Greene's hands, Brady,” he says. “This is your father's legacy. Your legacy. And if she wins, she'll destroy it all in a heartbeat. And she will hurt a lot of people in the process.”
“I understand,” I say. “I just need a little time to think.”
“I'd expect that you would.”
I put my hat back on and get to my feet. Thomas comes around and pulls me into a tight embrace. A moment later, he steps back and gives me a smile.
“I haven't been keeping that chair warm for the last couple of years,” he says, “just to let some spiteful, greedy little girl sell it off to the highest bidder.”
“I know you haven't, hoss,” I say. “And I'm going to do everything I can not to disappoint you.”
Thomas nods. “That's all I can ask.”
I leave the Keating building and feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders. The lives and livelihood of more than fifty thousand people rests on my ability to meet my two obligations – which are getting married, and apparently learning to ask for help.
My mind is swirling in a million different directions and I'm not entirely sure what to think. It feels like there's a hellacious storm brewing. It's out on the horizon, still two years away, but it's like I can see the thunderheads already gathering. The clouds are pitch black and promise to bring ruin and destruction.
Unless I can somehow manage to head it off.
The driver holds the door open for me and I slip into the back seat, lost in thought. But as he pulls away from the curb, an idea begins to form in my mind. And by the time we're halfway home, I'm feeling really good about it.
“This can work,” I say. “This can really work.”
Chapter Ten
Amanda
I climb the stairs to my apartment after another fruitless day of job hunting. I don't have enough experience for this place. I don't have the right kind of experience for that place. Everywhere I went, all I got were doors slammed in my face. It's all so frustrating and scary, and all I want to do is cry.
“Amanda.”
The familiar voice freezes me in my tracks at the top of the stairs.
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